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StarOfLorien
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Name: Kristin
Metro:
Birthday: 3/25/1983
Gender: Female
Interests: imagination. laughter. friendship. coffee, chai and chocolate. sunshine. theatre. pirates. simplicity. creative writing. earrings. folklore and mythology. singing. philadelphia sophistication. family. midnight. hugs and backrubs. being. exploration. difference. insight and perspective. photography. dance. the UK. opportunity. hiking and kayaking. learning. mystery. the natural world. faeries. random humor. music. jewish history and culture. solitude. literature. the ocean. freedom. coloring books and markers. tolkien. deviant art. intellectual conversations. games. foreign languages. quaint towns and reticent people. dreaming. world travel. catching sunsets. sleeping. adventure and spontaneity. movies. long walks. emotion. idyllic experiences. the color purple. defying my fears. reaching for the edges of God...
Expertise: Let's just say, "I dwell in possibility."
Message: message me
AIM:  la vie imaginee
Member Since:
2/13/2004
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assorted happinesses:
it is june. this means fireflies. and honeysuckle. two of my favorite summer things.
i got new dance shoes, a slice of carrot cake, and an afternoon at the park... all in one day!
one of the women at my office was complaining that everyone gives her sparkling cider for christmas, and that she hates all carbonated liquids. i LOVE sparkling cider. so i offered (generously, i know) to take the offending beverage off her hands. the result? i now have a bottle of martinelli's sparkling cider in my bedroom closet. and it is all my own! now i just need a good friend and something to celebrate, and the three of us will wander off into the woods somewhere for a gypsy picnic.
the past two times that i've tried to give blood, i haven't weighed enough. (this is not the exciting part. it is actually quite frustrating.) the exciting part is that i've been trying to remedy this by systematically moving down all of the various ice cream menus within a 15 mile radius of my house. so far, i really like chocolate dipped strawberry blizzards, and the cake batter swirl ice cream at scoup de ville.
red box has movie rentals for a dollar. a DOLLAR. i am recently (and completely) addicted.
i just booked a flight to chicago, to see my seester and be reunited with some of my most inspirational friends.
i got an unexpected voicemail from rob that was SO sweet and SO thoughtful it made me cry. sometimes it is just good to be reminded that you are loved, that someone is praying, that someone's shoulders want to help bear the weight of your troubles, that someone would drop everything to wrap you up in a hug or to rescue you from monotony. rob is one of those amazing friends, who would do all of that for me in a heartbeat, and who takes time out of his busy schedule to remind me of that. i am keeping that voicemail forever.
i went to a stylish little clothing shoppe and tried on EVERY SINGLE sundress (my second favorite article of clothing, sneaking in just after pajama pants). i did not buy any because i am entirely too frugal for my own good sometimes. however, i did fantasize about what it would be like to take an entire paycheck and spend it all on dresses. maybe i owe it to my nearly-amish upbringing, but i could honestly live in dresses. all the time.
in the past week, i slept deeply (and all through the night) TWICE! and it was so, so good.
one of my most delightful and completely "organic" friends has her bridal shower tomorrow, so i made her a card out of all these really beautiful recycled papers. and i was impressed, all over again, by the coolness of recycling. you know? i can't help but wonder what these papers were before they became this card, and what this card will become next.
oh, and i am totally going to the beach next weekend. any takers?
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i need your help.
i spend some time each night just listening to music... lovely, soft, nostalgic music that helps me to untangle and to shed the weight of the day. it lets me stretch myself more thinly between my sheets at night, and bends me along that elusive dream path that hovers just above my mattress. to date, it's the very best cure i've found for my chronic struggle with insomnia.
but this evening, in the middle of my nightly ritual, i went to remove one of the tracks from my playlist and accidentally cleared the whole thing. yes, all of it... all 500+ of my very favorite tracks, which i've selected and collected, painstakingly, over the past three years.
i was immediately overcome by this profound sense of loss. i feel as though someone just set fire to my entire album of pictures from oxford, or took a pair of scissors to the afghan my mom crocheted for me when i was little. this is the soundtrack of my past THREE YEARS that we're talking about here. given that i only graduated from college four years ago... that was basically the soundtrack of my entire adult life. sheesh.
don't ask me why i never bothered to save this playlist.... because in retrospect, i have no FRIGGEN clue. i've done everything to try to recover it, but to no avail.
anyway. all that to say...
if you have ANY recommendations for decent-quiet-emotive-indie-singer/songwriter types of music, please please PLEASE pass them along. (emilie, you know my musical taste better than anyone; i seriously hope you're reading this.)
sigh. thanks, guys.
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you have to be careful
you have to be careful telling things.
some ears are tunnels.
your words will go in and get lost in the dark.
some ears are flat pans like the miners used
looking for gold.
what you say will be washed out with the stones.
you look a long time till you find the right ears.
till then, there are birds and lamps to be spoken to,
a patient cloth rubbing shine in circles,
and the slow, gradually growing possibility
that when you find such ears,
they already know.
naomi shihab nye
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oh thunder.
i am awake, in these small hours of the morning, and am snuggled into the deep dark of my bedsheets listening to you. this has long been one of my very favorite activities... ever since that night twenty years ago when my mom, looking lovely and lonely in her thin white nightgown, took my trembling hands and led me out on our balcony in the middle of one of your lashing, clapping, sky-brightening storms. she held me tightly in her lap and told me, "hush. listen. it's powerful, but beautiful. there is no need to be afraid."
but context is everything, isn't it?
tonight, i think of how you are being blamed for the disappearance of an air france jet that flew, in true icarus fashion, just a little too close to your tremendous, stormy glory. and so tonight, i can't help but think that you sound like splintering metal, like sudden impact with a raging sea. you sound heavy with the last cries of your victims and the mourning of their families. you sound shocking; you sound cruel.
i imagine that there are others, more closely connected to the disappearances in that haunting, towering column over the atlantic, who are also awake tonight... and listening. some, maybe, are listening for a clue. others listen for a reason, an answer, an apology. perhaps others, like me, are simply wondering what it would be like if your voice was the last sound we heard on earth.
i wonder if i will ever listen the same way again. | | |
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i am (quite inexplicably) in a kind of summer of the soul.
this weekend finds me sick and in bed, but i have piles of good books beside me, a glass of orange juice in my hand, and blooming azaleas just outside my window. the breeze today is so fresh, you would think the four winds were chatting together somewhere in the backyard instead of jealously defending their respective corners of the map. my toes are snuggled into my favorite blanket, and my heart is warmed by leftover giggles from breakfast with the kids.
today, the peace that i've prayed for slipped over me like a sigh, so natural and quiet that i didn't even recognize it at first. but i am grateful for its presence, and the fact that i am simply, finally ok.
i am seeing beauty in ordinary things.
i am taking comfort in the spaciousness of my own uncertainty.
i am reconciling myself to the perpetual, delightful awkwardness of growing up.
it is ok, this messy fumbling sort of interaction with life. i would rather be here, on the inside of things and in the middle of things, learning to live organically and authentically... then be back on those comfortable sideline bleachers, caught in the endless game of offering detached and soulless commentary on how life should (or should not) be lived.
and what it all comes down to, my friends,
is that everything's gonna be fine, fine fine...
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